Loyalties
by Pidraya
Summary: As things continue to develop in Kosovo, Gibbs repays a debt of kindness.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:**

As with any war, there was money to be made in _Kosovo_.

Within the context of this story, the Russian ring was there; buying and selling guns and ammunition, and stealing every precious thing they could lay their hands on.

_Drenica_ is a hilly region in central Kosovo. The villages in that area were the birthplace of the _KLA (Kosovo Liberation Army),_ and as such were a stronghold during the Kosovo War.

As mentioned in _Intermezzo_, Sergei is the friend of Svetlana's family responsible (financially and otherwise) for brokering her move to the ring because he occupied an important position within it.

* * *

_**Drenica, Kosovo**_

_**April 2rd, 1999**_

_**1700**_

Anatoly sat up just long enough to spit the water from his canteen over the side of the truck, and lay back again.

His mind on the woman who would be in his arms in a few hours.

* * *

_**Svetlana's apartment in Paris**_

_**2000  
**_

Svetlana looked between evening dresses and finally threw both of them into the suitcase with the admission that she really didn't care which one of them she wore.

She'd given up hope that Anatoly would be coming in Washington.

Her flight left in the morning and she still hadn't heard anything from him.

Looking at the clock, she realized that she needed to call it a night – but as she walked towards the bathroom there was a knock at the door.

A quick look through the peep hole made her heart stand still.

Sergei was standing in the hallway.

She stood there, frozen. Unable to process a single thought beyond the fact that if Anatoly were dead she would know.

_She would know_.

Sergei knocked again – a little more impatiently this time.

_You would know_, she repeated to herself as she opened the door.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" she asked as she turned the light on in the living room and started to pour him a drink.

"Where is he?"

Svetlana felt her face flush – although it was more from embarrassment than shame.

She considered her response before admitting,"I don't know."

"_What do you mean you don't know?_ You're his handler, Svetlana. You're supposed to know _everything_ he does." He paced round the room angrily, alcohol spilling over the side of the tumbler. "Then if you don't know where he is, allow me to enlighten you. He's working for one of Milošević's deputies. Killing anyone he wants dead. _That's_ where he is."

Svetlana bowed her head - not wanting him to see her reaction to the news he'd just brought.

"I was doing my best to get him work, Svety." The use of her childhood name sounded strange under these circumstances, and she almost cringed when he took her by the shoulders. "I am doing everything I can to look out for his interests. _And yours_. But this is not the way things work. Do I have to start asking you where your loyalties lie now? _Why didn't you tell me he had taken an outside job?_"

Suddenly the room felt as though all the air had been sucked out of it.

Sergei waited for a moment and then placed the tumbler firmly on top of the television.

"When he gets back I want to speak to him," he said as he headed for the door.

As the door closed behind him, Svetlana reached for his glass and drained what was left in it as she thought back to her last conversation with Anatoly.

He had been very forthright about his reasons for taking the job he was currently on.

The ring had pushed him aside after the incident in Russia, and the UK operation had been nothing more than rookie work. He'd been offered the chance to make some decent money doing something with a challenge - and he'd taken it.

_Do I have to start asking you where your loyalties lie now?_

Sergei's words echoed in her head – and she closed her eyes against the threat of a panic attack as she acknowledged that she was now caught firmly in the middle of a pissing contest between Anatoly and the ring. And that there was no telling where it could lead.

* * *

_**Naples Field Office, Italy  
**_

_**2100**_

Gibbs rubbed a tired hand across his face and wished he were anywhere but at his desk.

Jen was out with Pat for the night, and he'd taken the opportunity to finish off the last of the UK paperwork.

A sound caught his attention, but when he looked around there was nobody there.

Not surprising, he thought as he looked at his watch.

With luck he'd get his work finished soon and get a full night's sleep for a change.

But as he poured himself a coffee in the rec room a few minutes later, the sound floated down the hall again - and this time he knew he wasn't imagining things.

He followed the intermittent noise, which sounded more and more like strangled sobs as he tracked it down.

It led him to the janitor's room.

He opened the door, flipped the light switch, and found the last person he was expecting to see huddled in a corner.

"Come to see the freak show?"

Pat pulled her knees in tighter and buried her face in them - and Gibbs remembered why she and Jen had been going out for a drink in the first place.

He searched his brain for the name of the man in question.

Chad. Chase. _Charles_.

"Getting smashed on account of Carlos the Magnificent?" he asked as he slid down onto the floor next to her.

He took the stifled snort as a sign of encouragement.

"Wanna tell me about it?"

"You're an agony aunt now?"

"Nooo," Gibbs said slowly. "But we're the only two people here and I got nothin' better to do." He waited for a long beat, and when she didn't say anything, reached into his jacket pocket for his phone. "I'll call Jen to come pick you up."

"_No_," Pat said as she pushed the phone away.

"Didja stand her up?" When Pat nodded, he raised the phone again and said, "she'll be worried about you."

"I don't want her to see me like this."

Her voice had taken on the deadly calm he associated with great self-control, and wasn't surprised when he felt the thud of her temple against his shoulder.

"Whatcha drinkin'?" he asked after a long silence.

"Jenny says it's an acquired taste," she said with a dry laugh as she dangled a bottle in the air. "Guess that means she acquired it from _you_."

"Good stuff," he replied as he took it from her.

Making a mental calculation based on the spirit level before taking a swig.

"I'm tired, Gibbs."

The exhaustion in her voice was palpable.

"Want me to drive you home?"

"Not that kind of tired. I'm tired of being a footnote in people's lives. Tired of people asking for my loyalty, _earning it_, and then deciding it isn't worth having. I'm tired of being a commodity. But most of all I'm tired of being me. Of always being the one who has to understand. Who has to find a way to deal with the skid marks left all over me when people go their merry way with a _sorry_ tossed over their shoulder. I'm tired of being me, Gibbs. I'm _so_ tired."

"You're out of luck with that, you know," he said kindly.

Knowing he had to strike a balance between coming across as flippant and saying something out of character just to ease the moment for her.

"I want to be one of those women men pander to," she said as she started to rise unsteadily to her feet. "I want to be one of those people who can do what they want and get away with it. Maybe in my next life, huh Gibbs? If I'm lucky?"

"Come on, I'll get you home," he said as he got to his feet as well.

Pat swayed.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she said as she leaned heavily against a shelf.

Gibbs scanned the room and located a bucket.

"How many ex-wives have you got?" she asked suddenly.

"Two," he said, putting a firm hand on the bucket.

"Planning on making Jen number three?"

The question stunned him into silence - but before he could even think of a way to deflect the question, she was talking again.

"Don't trifle with her, Gibbs. No emotional grandstanding, no bandying big words around. Don't make promises if you already know you can't keep them."

"I need to get you home," he said, putting an arm under her elbow and trying to maneouvre her towards the door. "You're going to have a hell of a hangover in the morning."

"Do you know what the hardest part is?"

"You're feeling sorry for yourself, Pat. It's the alcohol talking. Lets get you home."

"This isn't about feeling sorry for myself. It's about realizing you believed you were important to someone, when the truth is you made a negligible difference in their life. Do you know what it feels like when someone tells you they've been looking for you all their life and then hangs you out to dry without so much as a breeze for company?" She put her hand over her mouth and retched slightly. "It makes you feel like you fell short. Like you're a disappointment. Do you know what it does to a person to know that they're expendable? Do you know what it does _here_ and _here_?"

She tapped her chest and her forehead hard, and Gibbs placed the bucket in front of her just as the first heave shook her body.

"Atta girl," he said as he gathered her hair and settled in for the long haul. "Let it all out."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's notes:**

Russia is two hours _ahead_ of Italy and Kosovo.

Washington D.C. is six hours _behind _Paris.

_Gllogovc _is a municipality in central Kosovo - between the Çiçavica Mountains and the Drenica Hills.

The _Michael Lewis_ mentioned in this chapter is the the same man who was interested in having Jen on a task force based in the Middle East in the story entitled _Politics_. A friend of William Decker.

A quick reminder that Svetlana Chernitskaya also went by the name of _Natasha Lenkov_ in 1999. In _Judgement Day_ (Season 5), McGee pulls up a photo where she was in attendance at an event in the United States.

* * *

_**Moscow, Russia **_

_**April 3rd, 1999**_

_**0430**_

Petrov tossed his jacket onto a desk adjacent to his own and started to look through the pile of intelligence reports that had come in overnight.

Halfway through, one about a spate of killings in central Kosovo caught his eye.

He read it over twice, trying to make sense of what he was reading – and then reached for his phone.

Too early to call Gibbs, but he had no problem waking William Decker.

* * *

_**Gllogovc, Kosovo**_

_**0530**_

Anatoly shifted slightly on the dank earth beneath him and kept watching the small road passing through town for movement.

His target would be coming from the neighbouring town of Skënderaj. That much he knew.

But could not be sure what time the man would pass through.

He was still irritated by the fact that he had been called back just as he was about to cross the border into Macedonia the night before.

Most of his days here had been spent thinking about the look on Svetlana's face when he surprised her on the plane to Washington – and it did not sit well with him to have his plans derailed because of someone else's incompetence.

* * *

_**Decker's apartment in Naples**_

_**0730**_

Decker poured himself some coffee and reached into the fridge for some milk.

Unsure how he felt about the new development.

Michael Lewis had asked about Jenny again a few days ago, and he'd been working on getting her to do a side op.

He slammed the fridge door as he thought about it.

He knew she was ambitious. He knew she had what it took to go far.

She'd put her career on the line for Ducky and Gibbs in France, and impressed the hell out of everyone, and yet opportunity had come knocking a second time – from the very man who had originally thought of her as a loose canon - and she was refusing to budge.

As he took the first sip of his coffee there was really no doubt in his mind who was to blame for her resistance - and the thought made him angrier still.

Rumour had it she was sleeping with Gibbs.

The thought that she felt she owed the man allegiance, after the way he'd spoken about her for all to hear, made him sick to his stomach.

She was sacrificing her career so that she could play house with a two-bit marine?

His mulled over his conversation with Petrov as he continued to sip his coffee – and suddenly realized that he had his answer.

There was no doubt in his mind that the news was going to drive Gibbs over the edge.

He merely needed to use that to his advantage.

He had learned enough about the man to know that nothing would stand in his way. However, when it came down to it, he was as much of a chauvinist as the next man - and the chances of him wanting to take a woman into a war zone were next to nil.

Decker smiled as he poured milk into his coffee. Instead of opposing an op, he was going to promote the hell out of one - even if he knew it would be a waste of resources.

He spared half a thought for Jenny's feeling, and then exercised a mental shrug.

She needed to understand that although _she_ might go out of her way for Gibbs, _he_ would have no problem putting a mission ahead of _her_.

He debated letting her know what was going on _before_ he called Gibbs in – and decided that it would be in her best interest. If nothing else, she'd know he was on her side when Gibbs revealed just how much of an ass he was.

He looked at the clock on his kitchen wall and decided he could call.

She'd been alone at the bar when he'd seen her yesterday. Pat had never shown up, and they'd driven around looking for her when she hadn't answered her phone. When they'd exhausted every possible avenue, he'd driven her home himself.

At most she'd be asleep and wouldn't hear the phone.

* * *

_**Jenny's apartment**_

Jethro drank his coffee without really tasting it.

_Planning on making her number three?_

He was still sure that if he so much as intimated anything like that, Jen would run. But a lot of Pat's words had insinuated themselves into his brain, creating fledgling anxiety, and he was finding it hard to separate them from the innate desire to create something tangible with the woman on the bed.

A phone started ringing in the living room – and he stepped out of the bedroom quickly. Closing the door behind him.

When he had ascertained that it was the landline he looked curiously at his watch.

Probably Pat.

Even if it would be incredible for someone with the hangover she'd been inviting last night to be anywhere near coherent at this time of morning, he thought.

The phone stopped ringing – and Jen's cell phone went off almost immediately.

Gibbs picked up the phone and looked at the caller ID.

Decker?

At seven forty-five on a Saturday morning?

He replaced the phone on the coffee table before it stopped ringing and made his way out on the balcony.

Deep in thought.

* * *

_**Dulles International Airport**_

_**Washington, D.C.**_

_**1300**_

Svetlana walked slowly out of the baggage claim area – still fighting the sense of disappointment that Anatoly hadn't made it. She'd held out hope all through the boarding process in France that he would somehow materialize at the last minute. When that had come to nothing, she'd managed to convince herself that he would be waiting for her in Dulles. Having somehow caught a flight from wherever he was – and arrived before her.

She was so lost in thought that she walked straight into the man in her path.

"Ms. Lenkov?"

She looked up to find a tall man in her path.

"Ludlow Lipari," he said when she stared blankly at him.

It took her only a millisecond to recognize the name as belonging to the man who had been instrumental in securing her spot as keynote speaker at the upcoming charity event.

"Oh .. hello," she said pleasantly as she shook his outstretched hand. "I wasn't expecting anyone to meet me."

"I've got a car waiting," Ludlow said as he bent down and picked up her bag. "If you haven't already made arrangements, that is."

Svetlana smiled as she fell into step by his side.

"No, I haven't. Thank you for doing this. How nice to be thought of."

Ludlow gave her a broad smile.

"Are you hungry?"

"No. They gave us lunch just before we landed."

"Perhaps dinner then. If you aren't too tired, of course."

Svetlana thought longingly of Anatoly and reined in the strong emotions that his lack of presence had evoked.

"Dinner would be lovely."

"Excellent," Lipari said as a driver stepped out of the car at the kerb and opened the back door for them. "I'll pick you up at your hotel at eight o'clock, then. There are a few people who are very much looking forward to meeting you."


End file.
